


the complete truth

by sebviathan



Category: Peter Darling - Austin Chant
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Canon Trans Character, Fluff and Smut, Genital dysphoria, M/M, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Prosthetics, trans affirming themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:33:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22512538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebviathan/pseuds/sebviathan
Summary: There is no sight in all of earth nor even all of Neverland quite like that of James’s mouth around his cock.
Relationships: James Hook | James Harrington/Peter Pan | Peter Darling (Peter Darling)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	the complete truth

**Author's Note:**

> i don't think i've actually ever written fic for a pairing that was already canon because there often isn't much reason to, but AS a trans man with genital dysphoria who often fantasizes about how i would have gone about my transition in eras long past, i got really fixated on this scenario really quickly.

There is no sight in all of earth nor even all of Neverland quite like that of James's mouth around his cock.

In this lighting, anyway. Of course James himself could not possibly look better—no matter the light, the background, or anything else, those hollow cheeks and the intensity of his forget-me-not eyes as he looks up at Peter are the peak of everything.

As for Peter himself, though. It takes a purposeful placement of a window or a lamp or the lack thereof to make the fabric of his cock match his skin. And when it _does_ , oh—

There is no better feeling.

*

James worked the words out of Peter when Peter didn't know how to say it—that he had liked how James was able to pleasure him back in Neverland so much and that the other way could never ever compare. That he might cope with it were he alone, but he is deeply uncomfortable with not matching James in that way when stripped bare.

"Then you don't have to be," was what James said, and Peter thought he meant that there would never be any expectation of him to be bare. He was happy enough with that, but then James continued, "It shouldn't be very hard to make you a matching one."

And it truly wasn't. All it took was some tea-stained linen, basic sewing technique, half a pound of rice, and one afternoon. One long, thin sack of rice for the shaft, and a short and rounder one for the bollocks. Peter sewed them together at the base and then, at James's suggestion, to another strip of fabric that could fit in-between his legs, all held together by a strap around his hips.

Just as Peter was marvelling at how satisfying it felt to actually wear it and feel the weight between his legs again, James suggested that they make one more.

"You mean as a back-up?"

"I mean as one that's less for casual wear and _more_ suitable for the things that a cock is actually useful for."

The look in James's eyes said it all before his mouth actually did. It was what sparked this in the first place, after all.

Clearly the man's artistic talent lied not only in paint. James took remarkably little time to think of a mechanism that would make this other cock workable, even aside from being larger and more tightly packed with rice. A cord went through the middle, attached at both ends, and was able to be pulled taut with a few turns of a button. That pulled the tip closer to the base, and thus made it erect.

"Better be careful. Some might say you're playing God, reinventing the cock like that," Peter had to laugh, testing out his invention. " _Marvelous_ ," he then muttered to himself.

James laughed with him. "If that of all sins is the one that keeps me out of Heaven for good, then God is an even worse role to play than I thought."

*

This marks the fourth time that James has put his mouth on Peter like this—officially twice what Peter has done to him. He's seemed twice as enthusiastic about it, too.

Which isn't at all to say that Peter doesn't delight in it, but despite it not even truly being a part of him, James has appeared to practically _hunger_ for it. He has tasted no salt of sweat and yet licks and sucks with evident desperation. He has felt no pulse or stiffening against his tongue and yet moans more and more as he goes.

There's no sensation to be felt along the false cock, but as James bobs his head it rubs back against the bit of flesh that Peter does have and motivates his hips forward. He feels it throb and ache for more, and the fabric catches the proper shade of pink in the light, and James's hands are so rough on Peter's thighs and he's so _goddamn_ beautiful when he's beneath him like this... and it is so easy to pretend.

He cannot know what the sensation of this _should_ be like, but he knows that it feels real.

For the fourth time, Peter thrusts harshly forward without meaning to. He promptly gasps and lets go of James's hair.

But he doesn't apologize this time, as he knows that also for the fourth time he is about to watch James's lips slide off the tip of his cock and curl into a full-lipped smirk. And he is about to hear, in a deep and gravelly hum,

"Do your worst, Peter."

Peter's worst begins with his right hand pushing stray ringlets of hair out of James's face. Then, once those forget-me-nots are unobscured, his left hand cups underneath James's bristly chin. His jaw drops ever so slightly more open at Peter's nonverbal command.

He really has to be glad that he never made a habit of getting himself off before recently, or else it might take much longer and be much harsher on James's throat for him to finish like this.

Though James would likely not mind regardless, judging by the motions that he returns Peter's thrusts with. And the growing frequency of his moans. And—

For the first time in four, perhaps in having gotten a hold on this experience, Peter has enough clarity to notice James frantically jerking his own cock below. It adds to his curiosity as much as it adds to the sight of it all—to the pool of heat in his belly and chest, to the grip that he has on James's hair, to the volume in his own moans and in his shout—

"Oh—I've got it— _James_ —James...!"

There is a two-toned moan from the man below, then, that he can only assume is meant to be a response. _Peter._ A clearly _desperate_ response.

He doesn't have to cling to him—James urges his own head forward to swallow Peter's cock whole when he comes. Peter has to pull him off by the hair himself to keep James from choking on it, at which the man slumps back, his shoulders slowly heaving. A tired but deeply satisfied smile rests on his face. The evidence that he's also been taken care of sits on the floor.

"Why do you look even more delirious with pleasure than I am?" Peter asks as he catches his own breath—half-teasing, half genuine.

That seems to have given James the energy he needed to push up and join him on the bed. Though his eyes remain heavy-lidded, his smile is that of a panther. Peter's heart wants to pick up again.

"Perhaps simply because you can't see how rapturous your own face is."

Whether he's personally showing more feeling than he thinks he is or not, that's not really what Peter wanted to know.

He fumbles with the button on his cock until the cord falls loose, and then he himself falls back onto the pillows. "...Do you really get that much from sucking off a bag of rice?"

He'd thought that James might chuckle at that. Instead the man looks confused. At least for a moment.

"I enjoy the weight of a cock in my mouth," he says as-a-matter-of-factly. "And I'm most accustomed to when it's warm and flesh, yes, but... well. Perhaps I'm _so_ accustomed to it that when I'm focused on everything else I love about it..." James lies down beside him, his gaze calm but as intense as earlier. "Such as being in between another man's legs. Having his hands in my hair. Letting my mouth be taken by him... knowing the great pleasure I'm giving him... the _symbolism_ of it all... The full truth doesn't matter, then, because I am in such ecstasy that it is true to _me_."

The familiarity of that statement almost startles Peter into sitting up. It's James's hand gently roaming his legs and stomach that keep him lying down.

"I swear that I feel it," James continues. His hand finds Peter's cock, still slick enough that he can give it a few strokes to help along his point. He inches closer to the other man's face. "It feels precisely as it should, Peter. My body recognizes it as a part of you, because it is. I do sense the warmth and the life within it, and I do... _taste_ the hot come that you spill down my throat..."

The shivers that run down Peter's body in that moment are not unlike those he remembers from when they first reunited. And James isn't even touching him anymore.

"...and so, clearly, we don't need Neverland for our truth to be true."

*

"Oh, Peter, don't tell me that _now_ of all times you feel undeserving of taking what you want? What you _need_?"

"I don't want to need it like _this_ ," he snapped. He felt it should have been obvious. "I can only think of how I wish I already had it."

There was a sudden sense of danger in the room. It was that sort of wish that had opened the door to the place they'd just escaped from. But James didn't let it last.

"There isn't a man alive who is born without shortcomings," he said, after drawing a deep breath. "Whether everyone perceives them or only himself. Why, some require a medicine every day for the rest of their life to function normally! Some undergo rigorous training, ten times as hard as any other boy, just to be where they all are. Some layer on mask after mask of hair or make-up or dress. Some need an _expensive_ pair of glasses so that... the words on a page aren't mere blurs—"

As he paused, Peter turned around to see James rubbing out a smudge on his glasses with his shirt. He put them back on with a smirk.

"Some... also need a prosthetic to replace something that was never there," he finished, briefly raising his left arm.

Somehow, Peter had never actually thought of it that way—as something that they had in common. He suddenly felt even more one with James, more assured that fate had brought them together.

"Look at us," Peter breathed, and finally smiled again. The sun shined on James from the window behind him. "A couple of incomplete men. I suppose that's the sort that Neverland attracts, anyway."

"No," James said simply. The sharp way that he stepped closer and took his shoulders, then, made Peter think of Hook in the most fantastic of ways. "Not incomplete. Not anymore, Peter. We've made the choice to complete ourselves, haven't we? That feels more real to me than anything Neverland could do."

*

James hovers over him, propped up by his elbows on either side of Peter's face. The ends of his dark ringlets tickle Peter's ears.

In a swift, impulsive move, Peter wraps his legs around James's and brings the man down directly upon himself. The impact hurts his chest just a little, and he relishes it. Moreso, he relishes James's yelp of surprise and his subsequent scrambling to get all his limbs wrapped around Peter like a Kraken's hold.

They kiss for the first time since James sunk to his knees, Peter sandwiched snugly—fully enveloped—between him and the bed.

A long time ago, he might have felt horribly weak for being in this position. _Emasculated_ , he might have said, if the rest of his situation wasn't already doing that enough.

Right now, he doesn't think he's ever felt more like a man.

Their lips meet again and again, and their chests and hips collide, burning, and thanks to Peter their hands connect, too. Both sets of them. He takes extra care to lace his fingers in between James's unmoving wooden ones. Just as much care as he took to carve them for James in the first place.

With the hand that can move, James proceeds to squeeze Peter's so tightly that it hurts. The heat between them soon becomes unbearable yet again.

"You know," Peter begins to mutter lowly, directly into James's neck. He can feel the shivers that that sends through the man above him. "...I think I have another go in me. I'd ask if you do, too, but..."

That is, there's already one hard cock between them. Peter lets go of James's flesh hand to reach down, twist that button, and make it two. James spends the next several seconds either too aroused or too awed to decide exactly what to do. So Peter thinks to help him out a bit.

"Well? Do your worst, James."

**Author's Note:**

> anyway peter darling is the only peter pan canon that i'll accept anymore, if you read this mr. austin chant sir i love your work :'0


End file.
